Can You Spot Domestic Abuse Early On?

The thing with standing in the empowerment of who you are is once you do it, you feel it when you aren't anymore.  It would be awesome to be able to say that my break in writing was about profound revelations and delving deeper into who I want to be, but I spent the last couple of months trying to dig myself back into a life that doesn't serve me. I was in a relationship.  I was being a girlfriend and seeing where I needed to grow.  I enjoyed parts of being a couple.  I kept looking at the cost of the relationship, and feeling that the benefits outweighed any sacrifice.  I had a few moments of frustration that I wasn't taking the time to watch the ocean, or go hiking, but I couldn't blame him.  It was the layers of my history telling me that being in relationship means being in service.

I visited my Dad on Sunday.  Part of our conversation was about the God I was raised to love and serve, and he admonished me that I can't say I love God if I don't obey his laws.  (I broke a few major ones in this relationship.) I left saying I loved him, and he said love is obedience.  Just the day before I had seen my nieces.  I told them I knew my boyfriend wasn't the one, but he was the one for now.  I knew it was about being in the moment, but I didn't see when that moment ended, but they did.  As I was telling them I wanted them to be authentic . . . I wanted them to stand up to their parents and aunts . . . stand up to me because "no" is an answer and never needs an explanation . . .

I got a call from my sister the next day.  My nieces heard what I said, but I was showing up to them as a lonely and sad woman.  The woman my family had started to get to know was disappearing under the weight of my relationship.  I had grown into someone I was proud of, but I couldn't see how love and service, and sacrifice meant that I was putting him before myself and taking leaps and bounds backwards.

It was a weekend where I got feedback from my loved ones that shook me.  I didn't wake up and snap out of it until a conversation with him that showed me how different we really are.  It was a moment where I looked at the ways he wanted to control my finances and other ways I choose to live and it was a moment where I wanted to run.  Having been in the situation before, I was lost again.  Was I overreacting? Am I seeing things that aren't there? It was both familiar and terrifying.  And it was time to walk away, but I wasn't sure.  The next day we argued by text and rather than tell me how he felt, he started putting me down.

I watched a video on Facebook today and as it got closer to the end, I started sobbing.  I may just be hormonal, but it resonated profoundly: [facebook url="https://www.facebook.com/AlexLeeWorld/videos/1105464309536408/" /] Once I ended the relationship, he begged me to take him back and as the second day wore on, he started a text stream of insults against me and my family, making threats and accusations. But I've been here before. It only took a moment to gaze in the mirror and remind myself of who I am. It only made me feel better about my decision to end things, no matter what my future without him looks like.

We were together about two and a half months, and I'm still trying to figure out how I missed the signs of abuse that are so clear today. He wanted to help around the house and made changes as improvements. He enrolled me in what he thought was best for my family. He wanted to lead my household but I couldn't give up complete control and he made that feel like a failure on my part. He made me feel like I was wrong to not relinquish the power I had over my home, even though I knew how ridiculous his request was to me, my children, my family and anyone else that knows me.

I wanted company when I started online dating. I found it. I was convinced that it was okay to spend time with "Mr. Right Now," but I know it's better to be alone than in a relationship that doesn't serve me and make me grow. I'm alone again and being single feels like freedom again.

How We Compare Past Pain To Gauge Present Pain But It's All Relative

My writing feels broken. Life still moves at the speed of "slow down, WTF!"

That hasn't kept the words at bay.

My love life has been moving in a positive direction.  It has made change for me and my boys and we're riding the waves as a family.  For the most part we're okay but in one very specific way, we're not.

My firstborn is having a hard time with the changes and not having my home whole has made writing a challenge.  How do I write about doing what feels good, when so much of what I feel is tied into how my son feels and the ways we're not blending our lives into ways where I can proclaim we're all doing epic shit.

Friday I drove myself to an ER after pushing through a job interview and saying I had a little indigestion.  The chest pain was bad enough that I was crying.  Not sobbing or asking for attention as much as silent tears and gritting my teeth through the nurse's questions.  It was bad.  I found my sense of humor.  She was hiding out but given free reign, she's a bit snarky and had no patience for the whiny bitch next to me.  (If a nurse or doctor is trying to help you after you go see them for help, don't bother trying to justify kicking them.) I was sent home after being given really good drugs and felt better through the weekend.

Monday morning I called an ambulance after a night of chest pain, vomiting and being unable to sleep.  I know, pretty bone headed of me.  I kept thinking, it hurts, but it's not as bad as the pulmonary embolisms.  And then it was.  It went from kinda uncomfortable to more painful than full on labor pains pretty quickly too.  I think at some point I may have begged for death while running to the bathroom to vomit and it was only after getting through the night that I called an ambulance and had the paramedic act pretty bored as he realized I wasn't actually having a heart attack.  They hung out with me and waited for another ambulance to take me to a hospital where I was taken in and tested and poked and prodded and drugged.  The 7 am call included a transfer to my plan hospital and a discharge after 33 hours, with lotsa fun follow up appointments in my near future.  Gallbladders are like lungs.  They're supposed to function without using pain to grab your attention.  If you feel pain, play it safe and see a doctor.

I kept thinking of my worst possible experiences and I held them up to what I was going through.  I held up the past with the present in a way that let me see that I was not actually dying.  I matched up battle scars to see that I've been through bad situations and it doesn't make the current better or worse.  It reminds me there's no point in whining about it.  I will get through it.  There are no other options.

That moment helped me find the funny and crack some jokes.  That comparison gave me the clarity to see that I haven't been able to write, but it's about me.  It's not the boyfriend.  It's not wondering what I can write or if I should. It's my relationship with my firstborn that makes me feel so shattered that the words stopped.

It's new territory.  I get to learn and we get to stretch, and in time, this will be one of those battle scars in our relationship I will hold up.  I'll remember how hurt I am that I have hurt him.  I will remember how torn I feel by the directions my heart is pulling me in.  I'll remember that in this moment and every moment around it, I've been trying to go by my gut and do what is best for me and my family, without sacrificing myself for my family.  It's a marker.

I will see the parts that were broken.  I'll compare them to the next terrible thing.  I'll remember how we managed and the ways that made us stronger.  It'll be okay.  The words will flow again.

How We Bounce Back After the Marriage Ends

I was never a tennis player.  I ran around a tennis court with my Dad once.  It was some time right after high school on the open courts in Griffith Park.  I remember having no control of the ball.  I kept swinging my arm up and sending ball after ball over the fence walls and being the person to chase them all.  It was just exhausting.  I hated the experience.  I'm sure there's a really bad poem about that day on my hard drive somewhere. I'll spare you the angst. Take that same ball and include a dog willing to run around and it has a whole different feel for me. I actually enjoy throwing the ball and watching a happy dog chase it down before it lands.  It comes back a slimy mess of drool and it comes back with the expectation that the game would continue.  You throw a ball for a dog to chase and there is an exponential growth of energy and excitement.

That poor ball though, right? You reject it.  It lands and then comes back a mess.  And yet it comes back.  It bounces back.  (Just grab it before the dog gets to really start chewing.)

There are lessons here.

I know more than one cancer survivor.  The word "survivor" sounds very different from who these people are to the life they lead.  I have never met a survivor that wasn't thriving.  I have never met one that was afraid to say the important things.  I have never met one that wasn't stronger than they thought they could be, brave in spite of their fear, or courageous through all of their physical pain. They have mastered bouncing back.

I know more than one person that has gone through a failed relationship and the bounce back isn't pretty.  I spoke with a woman last week and our experiences were similar.  Bouncing back was a long and hard journey that wasn't a bounce from relationship to relationship to mask what needed healing. At the end of the road we both came out stronger, but at the lowest points, even our mothers had a hard time seeing our pain.

We know how to be alone.

We're not afraid to be alone.  We even celebrate moments alone and you can't threaten us with leaving. At one point it was terrifying to hear the sound of an empty home.  It's possible to find a way to be comfortable sitting at a table for one in a crowded restaurant on date night.  We know the devastation of a relationship that has ended and taken our dreams and expectations with it.  We know how bad it can be and we know we survived with strength we didn't know we'd find.  Most of the encouragement I had in the beginning was that I am stronger than I think I am.  It was and is true.  Who knew? Others that have been through it knew because I sure didn't.  It's something you find out once there is no one around to rescue you but yourself.

We know how to roar.

We have learned how to listen to our own voice and we've found the courage to speak for ourselves. We do what feels right because we know there will be others willing to share their opinions without support and we know at the end of the day it's our choices with the weight in our hearts that will allow us to sleep or keep us up all night.

We know it can always be worse.

Finding your way through a life-change can knock the wind right out of you, and just when you think you can stand on your feet again, the ground shows you it can swallow you up without warning. You'll hear about friends going through a rough patch and you won't be able to fully empathize because you know it can always be worse and you know it has been, but you are stronger for it and you can get through it. You offer the nuggets of hope that helped you through the worst of it and laugh at the rest because that perspective shift is the control you needed to launch you past the pain.

We know how to ask for and accept support.

We know when to set our pride aside. It feels terrific to know we can do it all on our own,but sometimes we can't.  It can be really hard to ask for support and humble ourselves, and know help doesn't look the way we want it to and it often comes at a cost, but we ask for and accept support anyway because we know we have to.

We learn that it isn't always about us.

A week ago I was humming to myself.  It was one of those Mariah Carey songs that end up in ranges that even dogs couldn't hear.  I was humming badly and someone walked in on me in the office kitchenette. I was embarrassed and tried to excuse myself but the woman walking in the room didn't even hear or really notice me.  In her head and taking up her full attention was the world that sees only her as I was in my world that saw and cared about everything I did.  Our worlds would have never met if I hadn't stopped her to draw attention to the fact that I expected her to see me.

The world that crashed around me was my world.  In the beginning it was ugly and I was emotionally bleeding all over Facebook and to anyone that I thought cared about me.  Some friends saw more than they wanted to.  Some friends didn't see or know anything.  Other people wanted the juicy details and my personal hell of a side show. Given space, some people will still really care, but not enough to be present.  Maybe they'll offer space because they don't know how to react.  Maybe they have no room for someone else's pain. Given time, will the opinions of others matter?

We know how to bounce back.

The thing about bouncing back is you are first launched.  You are thrown far, and land hard in a way that throws you in places and ways you would never choose. You end up covered in things you would love to wash off and you accept that some of it is shame and part of that shame never belonged to you.

Shake it off.  Newton's 3rd Law tells us every action has an equal and opposite reaction.  Live boldly and prepare to be launched.  You were born to fly.

How To Find Closure After Something Special Ends

A few mornings ago Kid3 was singing an Adele song and laughing about it. He found the funny without knowing what it was about, other than the many memes starting with, “Hello.” I asked if he knew what the song was about and I told him it was about getting closure and saying hello a long time after a relationship ended. Then the jaded bits came out to bite me and it’s worth looking at if it makes my inner cynic stand at attention.

Closure is about being able to move on from something that meant enough to destroy you a bit when it ended. It could be a relationship. Or a job you relied on. Or the death of a person you didn’t expect to die and refuse to let go of. It’s about accepting that something you loved and cherished doesn’t exist in your life anymore and knowing that it isn’t who you are. You are not a broken relationship and the past is not where you'll find your badassery.

The angry black woman in me said, “you expect someone that failed you while you were both in love to make you feel better now that you’ve had the time to move on?” I mean, true artistry looks like this woman in love. Even when you aren’t amazing, my heart full of infatuation can make something truly terrible look like I can’t live without it. I take your flaws and push them aside because living with them is better than living without you. Take that amazing artist interpretation, give it time and I may just see how much we really weren’t made for each other.

Time will show me the ways I didn’t give space or obsessed way too much over every single detail that seemed relevant but really wasn’t. I’ll see the ways I failed and pride will shove the reasons he failed me to the forefront. And closure sometimes asks us to reconnect to reexamine and release these things. But why?

I’m currently in a relationship. It’s new and I’m still in that happy phase so this really is a look back and doesn’t apply to him. But he's different. I can see the things I question and his answers shift my perspective. I'm different.

Looking at past relationships, there was a fascination in each man I cared about to the point that I wasn’t caring for myself. I wasn’t writing or finding time to be in my happy place. I was relying on him for happiness and that means I wasn’t happy. That neediness often made him (all of the hims) unhappy.

Take my unhappy ass, add a man who was equally unhappy. Subtract the value for our love and how much we cared about each other and it still didn’t add up to keep us together. In the ways we cared about each other . . . The ways we lied to soften the blow of rejection . . . Ultimately, walking away is the greatest rejection possible . . . And that care still couldn’t keep us connected. Time passes and for me that means head turning weight loss. I return to my happy place that shares way more than you’d ever be comfortable with. I start buying myself flowers and reminding myself of the ways I’m awesome that couldn’t be seen under the shadow of the man I placed on my pedestal, and let’s find that closure!

The reality for me is that I have never been able to find closure in a conversation with the men I once gave my all to. I couldn’t see how he might fail me until he did and once I had that hindsight vision of who he was, I see how he could have never been what I painted him as. I see the ways he could never even communicate what I needed to hear because he’s never been as open or emotionally self aware as I am. I held him to my standard and I know he’ll never meet another woman like me. I’ll never meet another woman like me.

For me, closure comes from hindsight and a vision of what my future should be. It comes in facing the ways I accepted less than I desired and taking notice of the ways I undervalued myself to prove to them they were worthy of my love, affection, time and desire. (My desire though... Not everyone can or should handle that much intensity.) I appreciate the times that were good. I relive a few of the good memories. I’m careful to see them with the perspective of someone that was once in love and is now happy and fulfilled in self-love. I can see the good for the good it was. I can also see the ways it was a relationship I would never wish on a loved one and I can stand tall as I walk away because the closure I needed was always in my control and not at the mercy of a man who failed me and odds are would repeat that pattern.

Find the good. Honor it. See the bad. Recognize how you accepted it and promise yourself to do better next time. Be open to love and let go of fear. That’s the closure you’re looking for. It will come in waves and surprise you when you least expect it to.  Go with it.

Would You Rather. . ?

Gluten free is easier and feels better than eating wheat. Food that makes me feel like death is coming for me through my digestive tract is evil. Even if it is buttery and flaky with sweet marzipan filling. It should be illegal to make sugar free foods if you can't make them taste better than the idea of starvation.  Meals should be based on taste and hunger. Anything that makes me want to brush my teeth to get rid of the taste should not be considered food. Yes, I've tasted sugar free snacks that tasted far worse than toothpaste.

We're all looking for something.  It might be a pinata with a blindfold.  It could be your keys that are just chilling in your door.  It could be sanity in the bathroom where you can lock the door and hide from kids.  I bet you've spent some time looking for a sock or two and just decided to accept your role in the House Elf Liberation Front (if you don't know Rowling, just know there are libraries for people like you). If you're really lucky, you have help looking for that ever elusive g-spot, even if it is just a girlfriend sipping a bloody Mary and describing the journey over dinner with lots of giggles. I'm looking for company, but it looks like I'd rather be alone.

I did it again.  I tried online dating.  It lasted less than a week this time, but the horrible feeling was just as fresh.  I'm in a different place from the last time and I didn't get pulled into the needs of others.  I was able to distance myself in some ways, but at the end of the week, I felt just as violated. There were a few decent people online.  We just wanted different things.  They wanted a forever partner and I'm not her. Two out of three men wanted me to get sexual because I was willing to say hello.  It was usually, "Hi.  Sex tonight?" Sometimes it took a few texts before they were comfortable enough to treat me like a discount hooker.  I wanted someone to stretch my perception, make me think, get my heart racing and give me peaceful moments.  It was too much to ask.

Laugh at my Freudian slip.  I did. The not gorgeous doctor stopped talking to me after this.  It was going so well as we talked books and museums.  The person I was thinking of was worth the slip up.

I'd rather be alone than go through all of this again . . .

Sometimes they are friendly for a while until they subtly ask for a picture, and not one you would be willing to share with the world.

I was up front with my shallow side.  I like looking at beautiful men. I like watching them run.  I may or may not have taken a few detours on my way to work to watch that lovely poetry in motion on Chandler.  It's a public service they perform and I will be that public audience, shamelessly.  I mean, there is a point to that really close relationship they seem to want with a bench press, and it's for me, right? Except, I won't dehumanize him to his face unless we mutually arrive at that point and I haven't gotten there.  He has to be amazing.  He has to be worthy of that next crush (#4 in 16 years, because I was a faithful wife). For now, I'd settle for someone willing to jump into my intensity.

There is a dating app that looks like a really great idea.  You get to see people that cross paths with you.  The problem is most of those people worked near me or at the same company, or they lived in my neighborhood.  It's all fun and games until you are looking over your shoulder on a Perrier run at your local 7-Eleven.  I got a "hello neighbor, it's nice to meet you" followed by, "let me bring you something from the store" in the same evening before I fully wigged out.  I live on a street that is 3 blocks long.  I made the mistake of naming it, and now I'm slightly paranoid every time I drive past the house he carefully described.

He ignored me after this and later the next evening I deleted the profile and the app because the gravity of my tiny one way street with no parking really sunk in.

And then on my way home tonight I met a beautiful hipster with blue eyes and a terrific smile while walking home with Kid3.  I may or may not have seen him topless through his bedroom window and I might have missed offering the neighborly suggestion for drawn curtains at night. I can't remember his name, but the look that was friendly and not predatory tells me I really don't belong online.  At least when looking for company. And no, he's not the one.  He looked really young.

Unreleased Offenses

Last night my really nasty side came out and it was messy and ugly and all over someone so sweet, that it really was a violation on my part.  I was in a place that was so uncomfortable that in noticing where I was, I noticed what I was doing, and the guilt and shame are still all over me.  This is about releasing offenses so I don't arm myself with them to injure another person. There are some things in life that feel huge and out of control and I find ways in which to feel like I have some control because that makes it easier for me to accept and navigate messy feelings.  When I was a surrogate, it was my control over my contracts and records that helped the out of control areas.  I agreed to everything in the contracts, so when IVF cycles and hormones made me feel crazy, I had something concrete to focus on.  There is so much that intended parents have to release in terms of pride and trust and I wanted to reciprocate that in having them choose obstetric doctors.  When my ex left, he took all of my contracts because of some imagined support battle in the divorce that hasn't happened.  In that moment when all of my records and photocopied checks were gone, I felt powerless and violated.  I felt like the signatures that held so much trust and hope were taken from me.  I have to release that.

In the last year I have gotten several text messages from my ex that looked like screenshots of our conversations that he was sending to someone else.  Very likely he was sharing my worst side with the woman that replaced me in his life.  What it felt like was a huge betrayal of trust, and it was done repeatedly.  It's still done, but I've gotten to a place where I ignore it because there is nothing I can do about it.  It's a violation, but I'm powerless and so I release the idea that I should have power over it.

Yesterday we were together to go over child support.  I was in a room full of people that were forced to share a room with their ex-lovers.  It was tense and comforting all at once. We started discussing our incomes and it became clear to me that I take a lot better care of myself than he did.  He noticed the ways in which I was doing well, and I thanked him for reading my blog.  He insisted people from the church family we shared will send him text messages to show him what I'm up to.  I stepped over that betrayal in that moment. I appreciated the fact that I have no idea of what he's up to unless our sons complain about something, and I was grateful that I no longer feel the need to spy on him.  I'm usually busy being happy with the epic things that fall in my path.

When the calculations were made, the child support payments he would have had to make were so small I decided to let it go.  In that moment I felt peace and saw it as extending grace.  I looked out the window and could see the building I worked at in January.  I remembered a few happy encounters in the kitchen with a slow smile and amazing pectorals and the view that so much peace was found in.  I asked if the attorney could see the ocean from there and he said he could on some days and it was a moment of respite from the tension of the morning.  I was smiling.  I glanced over and saw my ex had angled his phone and was recording me.  I smiled and said hello to his camera, and I was amused for a while.  It's not the first time I've been an unaware subject for someone's private viewing and I'm sure it won't be a last time.  I have caught enough camera phones directed at me that it doesn't bother me for the most part. This age of smartphones brings out the particularly creepy.  I didn't feel violated by this at first.

I was on my way to work and singing happily and even caught the food truck at lunch for my usual breakfast (2 eggs over medium, bacon, avocado and tomatoes, with cheese sometimes).  It was a good moment.  As the day wore on, Facebook reminded me it was 16 years to the day that he proposed to me.  My internal harpie started reminding me of the ways I was promised growing old together.  I started thinking about our trust and how utterly it was destroyed.  It was so much emotion, I couldn't keep it off of my face, and people I work with noticed.  I felt so violated in the picture or video that was taken of me.  I became a sideshow of someone else's design and the peace I felt was taken and mocked.

After work I saw a smile. It was beautiful and carefree.  It followed me home and I later used the beauty of that smile to reflect on my pain and sorrow and it became a source of frustration and highlighted a rare lonely moment.  I wanted to hurt the beautiful thing I saw and when I realized what I was doing and why, the guilt and shame tortured me through sleep and disquieted dreams.  This morning I've been searching for self compassion because there's not much more to offer outside of an apology to make up for what I did.

Old patterns emerge when I'm feeling especially low and I've had it suggested enough recently that the idea of getting lost in someone else's happy trail made me consider online dating again.  I'm not sure how fully I'm jumping into this. I went over my dating tips and the dating tips from my friends, and it doesn't sound as amazing a distraction anymore. I'm releasing these offenses and broken agreements that keep suckerpunching me at random times.  I will find grace when I'm not expecting it and look for beauty because I always find it.  But there should definitely be some shenanigans tonight.  There will be stretching out of my comfort zone.  There may even be another dress involved.

You Deserve Your Interpretation of Your Own Life

Thank you Diego Perez

What is this concept about?

This nugget is golden and I want to carefully unpack it. We're conditioned to feel we deserve something.  It starts as soon as we're old enough to choose our behavior.  We're told we need to earn play time, or a desired toy or activity.  We're told in love we deserve better treatment.  We deserve the love we've been offering for ourselves.  We deserve to be treated the way we've treated someone else, even if that means we're acting like deplorable human beings and it's what we deserve because of it. I'm arguing that we're not victims to the life we get to live.

What does it mean to deserve something?

Dictionary.com will tell you that the word deserve originates in Middle English.  Actually, I just told you, but feel free to fact check me.  I'm not talking Tolkien's middle, but more Chaucer.  It's English that doesn't sound like English because that's how old it is.  It's English that still blends other languages into it. It's a really old concept that says what you get in life is determined by what you have done to earn it.  You have to find a way to qualify or have a claim because of something you have done.  This means that you are given what you earned, and it takes the accountability of your choice away from you.  Deserving something is still part of who I am but I'm working on that.  Right now I love Meghan Trainor's new album and one of my favorite songs is all about announcing, "I deserve better."

People will always try to tell you who they think you are.  You don't have to believe what they say.  I recommend rejecting what doesn't come from your own intuition, including this suggestion.

Deserving love

When I tell you that I want to love unconditionally, and I spell it out here and detail it in my posts about mothering, it's because love is a gift and shouldn't cost the person we give it to.  I don't barter my love for affection or attention.  When I give my love it's free.  I give it no matter what I'm getting in return because I see value and have a desire to build and call out what I see until it is greater than it was.

Deserving mistreatment

Internal dialogues can be insidious.  Sometimes guilt can weigh on us and make a bad day look like something we've earned.  That perception takes away our choice and when choice is stripped, we lose control of our reactions.  It becomes cyclical and repeats.  We teach our reactions and adaptability to our children and they thrive or falter because of what we show them.

Deserving our lot in life.

When my kids were first diagnosed with autism I started to really question what we deserved.  Did I deserve what they have to deal with (I'm not always proud of my thoughts, and this was one of those moments)? Did they deserve what they had to go through? People with platitudes would suggest that God only gives special kids to special parents.  I call bull on that one.  All special needs parents are just like other parents.  Sometimes we do really well with adapting.  Other times we don't.  It's a choice and my choice is one I can stand by on most days.  The choice is to be better to my kids than I want to be.  It's not about deserving something.  It's about deciding it doesn't matter why this is in our family. It's about deciding how I can help my kids navigate our world.  I didn't get lost in what I expected and my perspective shifted.  It was a good shift.

Reactions and Interpretation

We're all in charge of our reactions and interpretation, but so often people are ruled by stress over what they wanted to happen and disappointment controls our ability to move forward.  Stress isn't even quantifiable.  It's real, but it's manufactured by us to torture us into stagnation.  People are always feeling major and minor effects of the stress they feel, but stress is entirely a choice you don't have to choose if you shift your interpretation and redirect your reaction.

When we live in the past, time drags on and we can't see what is right now or ahead of us. When we live in the future, there isn't enough time. There is too much to get done and again, we lose the gift that is the present.

When my husband of 15 years quit on me, I didn't react well.  It was bad.  It was ugly.  I was a living and breathing open wound, bleeding everywhere.  It was hard to live through and hard for others to watch.  A year and some months later I haven't jumped into a relationship but I have enjoyed a couple of crushes that reminded me how awesome infatuation could be.  They showed me what a really great guy might look like. They reminded me of the fun of seeing only the good in a person, ignoring the bad and glossing over the rest. My latest crush deciding to take himself out of our equation could have been devastating.  It wasn't.  It was fun.  It was exciting.  I needed to see what he showed me and hopefully he needed to experience what I offered.  There's still friendship.  I'm getting in touch with my geeky side that is entirely awkward and clumsy when it comes to him lately, but I'm enjoying that for what I've chosen to make it.

I didn't deserve to get dumped.  And I was, by everyone's standards.  Twice.

I get to be an autism mom. I got to be a stay at home mom.  Now I get to work at a job I love doing.

I got to be married for 15 contented years where I loved and was loved for the majority of it.  Now I get to fall in love again, and as many times as I'm comfortable with.  I got to sleep next to someone and care about his needs, and now I get to put my needs first, and look at all of the pretty men I see, without worrying about my actions hurting someone else.  (I have a special appreciation for watching men run.  It's beauty.  It's inspiration.  It's a public service and I'm so happy when I see a man in full stride.  It's my bliss at times and I have no shame about it. It's right up there with Crossfit and entirely yummy.) I got to love deeply.

I get to restructure my priorities.  I get to really connect to what brings my life meaning and it's a beautiful life I get to lead.  I get to do epic shit on a daily basis.

I get to be reminded that I really am beautiful by the many men that have tried to entertain me, and I get to pass on them because I get to choose who I want to spend my free time with.  And lately it's me, and people that don't want sex from me.

Nice, right?

There's a cost to the life we get to lead and it's not the price set by someone else's standards.

Taking Me Out

I'm still having fun dating myself.  Last night I went to the Broad Museum because I had tickets I reserved and sat on for close to a month.  It was Thursday so a free night at the Museum of Contemporary Art was next.  I drove to Philippe's for dinner, but wasn't actually hungry yet and walked to Olvera Street which closes a lot earlier than I remember and Union Station which really is beautiful when you aren't in a hurry.  I walked back to Philippe's in the dark and really appreciated Santa Monica for their police presence and the safety I feel there.

In line behind a group of three, their third wheel was beautiful.  He was tall and had one of those smiles that I would draw if that was my skill set, but as you can see, it really isn't.  He dropped a pencil and didn't notice it, but I handed it to him and nearly melted at his smile when he said thank you and told me it was his lucky pencil.  In that moment, I could see myself getting to know him better, but then thought about the amazing night I had just lived through, and decided that no, it's a hard pass.  In fact, I knew then that I was going to pass on everyone.

In the last couple of months, a really great friend pointed out how shamelessly my flirting looked a lot like teasing to a high school boy.  He remembered his interest and I never really thought about it.  I thought it was just him and he was being silly because our conversations are still a little flirtatious.  Sometimes.  Rarely.  And then there was a second memory from another man, and it was confirmation that I couldn't ignore.  I flirted and teased in high school, but this was out in front of everyone and never on a one to one basis.

The latest one remembered me as never shy, happy and full of laughter.  He remembered my smile.  I felt bad, having had to really look at his face and our mutual friends to place him.  I didn't remember him.  But there was something flattering about his memory, even if he really didn't know about my depressed moods, and loner tendencies.  The idea of reconnecting seemed fun . . . Once I got passed the fleeting idea that I may or may not have been someone's 20 year old jizz rag mistress.  I liked the idea of him wanting to show me a good time and cook for me.  But I also like knowing that whatever I choose to do alone or with friends, my juice is always worth the squeeze.

Last night was a great night.  Wednesday was also pretty epic.  I went to the beach after work.  I watched a seal family frolic in the ocean from the pier.  I enjoyed a meal alone, next to a table with two gorgeous men who were complete pigs, but fun to watch.  I walked to the promenade and ran into the same two men, shared a little about each other and I moved on.  Then I walked the Promenade, had a chocolate scented cigar (do they make dessert cigars?) because I needed the reminder of why I quit smoking all of those years ago, and I sang out loud on my way to my car.  Still got the same stares.  I even got smiles, and no one approached the crazy person singing to herself, so it was a win all around. It was a really great night.  In fact, I spoil myself with the good times I have alone.

I'm still not dating online.  That was a massively disappointing lesson I needed to learn.  This doesn't mean I don't get asked out.  He has to be beautiful and smart.  I need to feel like he would make my alone time a gift I would offer rather than a sacrifice on my part.  I'm not dating people.  I'm dating myself.  I love dating myself.

I eat like I love myself.  I don't diet.  I eat what looks good and I savor each moment with my food.  I buy myself jewelry.  I enjoy eating alone with a book, or journal, or my phone.  I love walking through museums and stopping at what calls out to me, because a lot of it makes no sense and I won't linger.  When I want to brighten my day, I'll buy myself flowers and I know I don't like baby's breath, so it's never included in my bouquets. I love being alone.  I don't want someone to take me out because I'm so great at showing myself a good time and there's a chance going out would make me feel like my time was squandered.

The Coffee Mug

I think lovesick puppies are cute, but I'd rather be your coffee mug. I can handle hot passion and sit and wait as you watch me cool off.

Trust me to carry your morning Joe, afternoon tea, late night cocoa or that Hot Toddy.

I would be happy to be your first thought each morning.

I can sit alongside you when you are lost in a book.

Coffee might come from magic beans but it's nothing without me to deliver it to you.

You can hold me with both hands and I'll warm you up while I bask in your worship.

Expect great things from me and I won't disappoint you.

Hold me carefully each day.

Bathe me gently.

Love me tenderly.

Let me be your coffee mug.

Welcome Distractions, or My Latest Crush

I prefer a good crush.  This has been decided.  I have yet to be convinced otherwise.  They're safe.  There are too many ready excuses why I'm not ready for a real relationship.  I think the biggest thing is my paranoia.  I'm low maintenance and easy going and that is so easily manipulated.  Most people that know me have noticed that I'm fairly resilient and adaptable to adverse situations and uncontrollable change.  That is an abuser's fantasy and I'm aware of that. I won't demand to see someone's phone, or insist they tell me every detail.  (Okay, so I would check my ex's phone, but it never occurred to me to look at any texts other than the ones from his sister that hated me. I might have seen the affair if I had.) I don't even need to be in constant communication or contact because I really love my time alone. I can be intense and passionate and dialing it back is always a challenge and not always a welcome one. A freefall into love means I'm giving it my all at 110% no matter what the return, or if there is one at all.  At the same time, I'm afraid of welcoming someone into my life that will eventually want to play house and I'll have to trust someone with my kids and that's the last thing I want right now.  I like silly crushes and superficial connections. I like playing it safe. My latest crush has very solidly placed me in his friend zone.  It was somewhere between a crush and almost a thing, but never really a thing.  I once joked that he keeps dumping me but we're not together. It feels like cooling off is leading to a final answer and while there is a little sadness because I always want what I want, I can accept it for what it is and appreciate it for what it was.  There was no leading on.  His honesty is new.  There isn't something to read into because his words have always matched his actions.  I think he was always flattered, somewhat curious, but he was always clear that I'm not the one.  I was never the right one for him. I won't explain his reasons but I will say I understand them and would never hold them against him. Maybe this moment is setting doves free.  I'm releasing what I have so carefully kept to myself.

There were a few moments when that friendship was a blurry dance but it's firmly back in place again and I'm okay with that.  Or I will be. It's where I keep all of the ones I refuse to let go of.  It's a good place to be.  I did consider a real and lasting relationship with him for a little while.  He's pretty amazing.  If being with him when I didn't have my kids could ever be enough, he would be the one. My kids have a way of creating radical change and I wouldn't want to change him.  I enjoy so much about him that shifting who he is would be a disservice to him and his eventual Miss Right.  He could only ever be Mr. Right Now but he's so great I would want more for him.  There isn't a time limit on Right Now, is there? Besides, it's not that serious. When I'm having a rough day, I'm not trying to hand it to him to fix for me.  We don't get into deep discussions about our dreams and our histories. We haven't actually gone out on a date. I'm very open and transparent and he's incredibly private.  I'm more into escaping into who he is and what he looks forward to each day than trying to fit him into me and my life. It's enough that on a rough day, a memory of a conversation or his shy smile can make me smile.

On a tangential side note, I'm listening to a playlist that includes Radiohead's Creep, Self-Esteem and She's Got Issues by the Offspring as well as Dramarama's Anything, Anything.  We won't analyze that, but I will leave it right here for me to notice and you to laugh at.  Go ahead.  It's a freebie.

What kind of man could catch my eye and hold my attention?

He's amazing and special.

There's something transcendent about his hugs.  To be wrapped in his solid arms and held against his body with that amazing scent that is so masculine and sexy . . . I will not admit or deny that there is occasionally drool involved. Bald men with healthy tans and hard muscles has always been a thing - my thing because I'm not above being shallow, but he has been a special treat.  His eyes are dark brown and so expressive.  There's a quiet calm in the way he slouches in a chair and it's almost like watching a wild animal that is bored between kills.  Lithe.  He has a beautiful lithe body. When he talks about astronomy, physics and geology, there's passionate excitement. I don't know if he's into Potter, but he'd be a Hufflepuff and that's not a bad thing.  I've always been a little more Ravenclaw but I can see that in him too.  He's well read and like a sponge, he not only absorbs what he's read, he can expand on it and watching him express what has blended together and mellowed into certainty for him is a special pleasure.  His eyes will tell you when he's unsure or insecure and there's a soft vulnerability in his gaze with lifted brows and full lips.  I could coddle him in those moments.

He's the strong and silent type but there's a vulnerability about him that brings out my protective side. In many ways he's so open, guileless and innocent. In other ways he's closed off and unmovable. Manchild isn't a dirty word if that's what would define him.  I rarely have this much patience or kindness for men since I realized my role as a wife was more important to me than being my ex's wife was. There's something about him that speaks to that part of me that needs to give and offer and not expect anything in return.  He brings out selflessness in me, and it's not about my vulnerability.  It's not that he needs to catch or protect me.  I want him to continue to be who he is, and whether or not he can offer me anything more than a smile is irrelevant.

He's beautiful.  I think most would say he's cute or a looker, (I may or may not have shared a glimpse of a profile picture with a select handful of women and maybe a gay man) but that's just based on his face.  There's a whole package and the thought of it is often my happy place.  Like, Peter Pan better find Tink because I'm ready to fly now.  There is solid muscle that looks amazing in a t-shirt and jeans. He has a runner's body and the lines from his broad shoulders to his hips are what Greek sculptors were commissioned to master. I love the body hair that covers his arms and peeks out of his soft and faded t-shirts.  He's so active that his skin is always warm and slightly dewy. (Perks of a fast metabolism.) His hands are warm and calloused and rough and manly. His chest is perfect. My hands are soft and sensitive and there is so much pleasure in what my fingertips and palms have felt.  I love the way his muscles strain to stretch across his chest and the thin flesh over his sternum throbs with his pulse and his stomach is flat and firm and fun to touch.  There is so much peace in wrapping my arms around him and just fitting. His kisses are deep and passionate and I imagine his hip girdle could make angels cry.  I wouldn't know.

For the first time in my life, I've been alone with a guy and kissed him and we've started something doesn't mean he needs to finish it.  We've kept our clothes on at all times and there's a purity in it that is worth holding on to. Some people call that respect or taking it slow, but it's so alien and I totally dig it.  I'm used to manipulation and aggression and guilt to go further than I want to, but there isn't a rush and I love that feeling. I really just enjoy sitting with him and talking to him.

I'm not into the idea of sweating.  I will sweat.  I just don't enjoy it unless I'm walking somewhere to see something beautiful or pulling weeds.  Exercise that doesn't look like fun isn't something I do.  He's so committed to being active and eating well.  He's mindful of what he's eating at all times and it's a choice I admire.  It's a lifestyle for him and has been since at least his teens and it's beyond admirable.  I thought being gluten free was a pain for me, but to stay off of sugar for nearly 20 years puts him on a meta human level, right? Dr. Xavier around, anyone?

I think the greatest pleasure I feel from him is in that sapiosexual itch he scratches.  He's so smart, and curious, and creative.  I've had conversations with him where I was dumbstruck by the ideas and thoughts he explains and I did mention he's gorgeous, right? He once told me about reading Einstein's autobiography and a lot of that conversation is a blur because I was struck by how intelligent he is and the rest of it was my slack jawed glory.  I'm sure it was comic relief because I could feel how stiff my smile was.  I must have been amusing to watch. More than once I've been lost in watching him talk.  He writes, and draws, and composes music and as public as my writing is, his craft is so much more private. I write to get it out of me, but he has ambition I've never felt before. I try to write daily and exhaustion often wins, but he is so dedicated to his craft that he's doing something creative every single day.  I was honored in hearing his music and he kept trying to explain away what he felt was wrong, but I was just lost in his ability and the way his music made me feel.  It really is something amazing when sounds aren't processed with meanings in lyrics. For a moment I thought about linking to the many posts he's made an appearance in, but it's easy.  He's been the one that makes me smile and has been inspiring posts since I first saw his smile at the end of May. He's been my muse.

He likes to stick to his routines because his goals are bigger than instant gratification.  He down plays friendships and relationships, but when people are leaving his everyday life, he takes a moment to honor their friendship by being present and communicating the value he places in them with an offering of his time.  He's deeply introspective and polite, often brushing off the possibility that anyone could offend him because of the thick skin that all artists layer on as protection. I think his transparency is far more genuine than the personas most people affect. He carefully sticks to his diet and exercise because he wants the results he's working toward.  Aside from physically pushing himself, he takes really good care of himself.  He could use more sleep and he could be more gentle on himself, but then that would shift who he is. He's passionate about politics because he knows what is right and wants his ideals to influence society because as much as he sees himself as solitary, he's also passionately interested in the good he sees in the world and wants to make it better because he can't ignore the bad that is all around.

I've always been up front that I want someone that can hold a conversation and he has to be eye candy, but we're just friends and it's not that serious even if he is beautiful because beautiful is never enough. At the same time, this post almost didn't happen for fear of a reaction that would make him hide from me and I can't have that influence the freedom in my writing, right? In theory. 

Man of my dreams

He said he was the man of my dreams. He kept talking long after I had heard enough.

I proved him wrong by trying to swipe left.

It would have worked if it was really a dream.

Anticipation

It's Friday and the rush of a work week winds slowly into talks about a diet, a drink, a plan . . . Life marches and evolves once we leave and their excitement and joy becomes irritating noise when my eyes watch the clock and my longing wraps around me like a cloak.  I'm shrouded and cloistered from their excitement as mine coils within me. Like burning embers and a gentle breeze, heat rises in my cheeks and my pulse quickens.  Agitated fingers tap a beat, a rhythm, a slap tap tap that can't remain still as the day melts into early twilight filtering through blinded windows, soothing the heat of a relentless summer sun with drifting clouds racing through cooler air as the bright blue sky betrays the sun, inking the clouds in darker blues, and pink hues that blend and blur a yellowed tinge of remembered glory.

I'm losing focus as my mind slips from duty to pleasure in the last tasks of a full work week and the joy of what will come tugs and pulls me deeper into thought and thoughtless sensations flood my belly and raise goosebumps on willing skin that begs for a touch and a moment of stolen pleasure on sensitive finger tips and arms that long to hold him.

The moment arrives and I stand to feel a lump slide and stall in my throat, swallowing hard the nervous energy gilded with the fear of rejection.  That beast lives under my skin and she waits for moments to strike me into memories of a rejected love and she slaps me with what was past and it takes a moment to remind myself that stolen moments are just moments and the only promise for tomorrow is my carefully laid resentment if I expect more than is willingly given. Within a few steps, my anxiety has made me forget my purse and keys and my clumsy steps remind me that I wasn't always so confident, and memories of a shy smile and large brown eyes sometimes uncertain and deeply contemplative ground me in my own fragility.

The moment approaches and I take a minute to breathe deeply to calm myself, knowing that I will again smell his unique blend of sexy masculinity and it will surround me, staying on the hand that holds his.  I take a moment and release the doubt that floods me because I am living in this moment and nothing matters outside of it.  I'm ready and anticipation gives way to the arrival.

What you are telling me is . . .

In my restlessness last night I called my cousin and told him I was due for shenanigans.  I went to his place and he took me to a barcade.  We grew up together and he's the same special guy that talked me through a night of self discovery here.  There were figurines and dolls that were all about the 70's and 80's all over the bar and walls.  I saw all of the classic arcade games that we used to walk to 7-Eleven to play when we were kids.  I picked out songs, three at a time on the jukebox and loved that it reminded me of all of the nights we hung out at my place or our favorite pool hall.  Of course we were in a bar with other patrons and they played their preferences which I had never heard of and I had this moment of realizing that if the music is setting the tone, I may be overthinking things. Before I got hitched, I had a bunch of guy friends and not many female friends.  It's not about female drama I needed to avoid. It was about friends that wanted to be around me.  They accepted me and all of my damaged parts that allowed me to destroy a few of my female relationships.  I was one of the guys.  Apparently I still am.

I was at the bar with my friend when a few hours later we were joined by another friend I had not seen in over 16 years.  The hugs were huge and it felt like home.  It was a night of catching up and being silly and for a while I found that confidence I had when I was in my 20's.  During the laughter and catching up and selfie sessions being posted, there was a moment of jealousy from a significant other directed at me.  I had lost touch with my snarky side, but she was ready to play.  I'm not sure if I regret that right now but it opened a discussion about our current relationships and the people we're talking to.  The conclusion is we're all doing what works for us because in our damaged ways, the people we've chosen fit the needs we have. We've found the right fits for our dysfunctions.

None of us are in a serious or committed anything with anyone.  It's all very casual and in the moment.  We're not complicated people and very straightforward about what we want but as we talked, I thought about the many ways people will always tell you want they want, assuming you aren't too focused on your selfish needs and wants.  You watch the actions, listen to the words, pay attention to the body language, and don't over think it.

We all crave attention on some level.  We want to be seen and heard and looked out for.  The things we'll do to get that itch scratched will always vary.  On a daily basis, I will walk somewhere just for the attention.  It's not really a walk.  I strut. There is one foot directly in front of the other, and it throws me off just enough to pretend I have more junk in my trunk than I do.  I walk with my posture straight and making eye contact.  I don't just step.  My steps are forceful and intentionally overconfident.  I focus on where I'm going and when I catch someone's eye, they get my friendly smile.  A smile can make a scowling woman smile back because you're slightly less threatening. Usually my ear buds are in and I'm listening to something upbeat and I step to that beat. Sometimes it comes with catcalls, but often it's just a look and that is enough.  And then there are times when the stakes are higher and I'm nervous and clumsy.  It happens.

Is the attention worth the cost?

The attention we crave means we'll take a call from someone we would be okay not hearing from. We'll justify it by thinking we're polite people. For me, it meant online dating for two whole months instead of quitting after the first week and the second bad date.  For the guys, it means answering calls and texts just to show the women that won't leave them alone that they can be jerks.  They purposely made the women in their lives jealous and called it a taste of the dish they were being served.  I don't bother trying to get someone jealous.  They care or they don't.  Sometimes I don't care enough for the small things to matter.  It's wasted effort.  When I decided I was done with someone I told them I was done and if they kept reaching out, I blocked them.  There's no reason to give someone else that much authority over the joy I tap into.

If you really want it, you'll do what you can to get it.

We consistently put our time, energy and money into things we value. You call or text someone you want to talk to.  You ask them to join you when you are doing something or doing nothing because you want to be around them.  You tell them what you like and hope what you said was what they heard.  You make time or you make excuses and there is an answer in that if you pay attention.

What remains unsaid or unseen can have it's own library to study.

There are parts of who I am that I withhold.  Last night was so freeing but it threw into sharp contrast the parts of who I am that I keep hidden.  As transparent as I am here, and elsewhere, there is so much I hide, and it was so clear when I was with old friends and not holding back.  I feel it's about protecting my vulnerabilities but also about not frightening away others with other things. I can be intense and I'm not always nice. I'm constantly turning over a million things in my mind.  There's always a thought or reaction that I'm gauging.  Where does the conversation pause, and is it a comfortable silence? Do you feel like enough was said, or do you need to explain deeper or is withholding about trust that has yet to be earned?

What do you see in the body language?

Once I get past the beauty I'm ogling, I want to see what the posture says.  Is this person relaxed or is he a bird ready to fly away and why does he feel this way around me? Is my confidence intimidating or am I being mean and it's more than he can handle?  Is he reaching out for my hand or is he keeping polite distance?  Is he turning his body and head toward me? Is he looking away for the most part and reaching blindly because he's afraid of the rejection he might see in my face?

Are you invited in or being pushed out?

In this area I'm a bit cynical.  I have had some meaningful and beautiful relationships, but I've also had plenty of guys try to treat me as something they wanted to play with.  I listen for the familiar script that I've come to expect first. I really evaluate how I'm being approached.  Is it late at night and he's lonely? Is it just before lunch and he's gotten through the bulk of work and has a few minutes to kill before leaving for his hour and he doesn't want to start a  new project so I'm a distraction? Is he trying to see how I'm doing, or is he hoping I can make him feel good?  I pay attention to what is being said and I over think his motives because I do want to know if I've been crossing his mind just because I'm always on it or if he's bored and lonely and he needs me to fix that.  I don't always reach out when someone crosses my mind unless the moment becomes a while and then they deserve to know they've held my attention.  I've been known to shoot off random texts while letting them know they don't need to respond.  I want to see the spaces I'm invited into.  Do they want to tell me about themselves or their ideas and dreams, or is the topic of conversation generally superficial? Am I invited into his circle, or am I far removed from the people that mean something to him?

You'll always be told where you stand and what you mean, but you have to pay attention to what isn't being told to you in addition to what is.  Try not to paint their monologue with the colors of your desires and decide what you are trying to take away from what you do share.

Dating Advice

I don't have real dating advice.  I'm not sure how seriously I'm taking it.  It's company that feels better than being alone and that hasn't happened yet.  Actually, I spent the weekend taking Kid3 on dates, and even with his tantrums and meltdowns, he's a better date than most of what I found online.  And I paid! I'm still wading through the messiness and I'm just sharing gold nuggets from some of the men in my life that are not interested in me because they know me too well, or their orientation means we share an interest in the same men. I'm out of practice and very impulsive in some ways. The men in my life are straight shooters and when I'm comfortable, you'll get that from me too.  They love me.  They know me.  They don't want me. What am I looking for? So far he's monogamous, physically attractive, well groomed, intelligent, cultured, patient with children (he may be a gay man), and only has eyes for me.

You need someone on your level.

Yes! I'm well read, relatively sharp (how much sleep are we talking?) and I can take care of myself and my boys.  I'm generally happy and I don't need attention as much as I want it.  I'm looking for a match that I won't have to make up for.  Well, looking is a strong word that I keep using for the meandering I actually do.

Some things should only be admired from a distance.

But sometimes they are so pretty and shiny.  I want to touch and obsess and learn every detail.  Then I remind myself I'm not a puppy and I can put the toy down.  But I don't want to. Call it sweet.  It may be a touch stalkerish.

Don't date at work.

You can't shit where you eat.  (Crude, yes, but the exact way it was said to me.) I tend to look for someone doing just as well as I am, or better, and it's hard to shut my eyes when the men parade so innocently past me when they don't know I was looking through my lust colored lenses.

Set your rules and don't break them.

I had stiff rules when I was online dating.  No delivery drivers but that is more about me than anyone else. I have issues.  They end up here where I can be followed and shared and bookmarked. No one younger than me, but that one is flexible in relation to how much drool we're dealing with.  He has to be smart enough that I'm constantly in awe of his huge ideas and observations.  He has to look better than I do.  I'm looking for beautiful but I'm shallow.  I own it.

Don't lead anyone on.

I have this tendency to start flirting when I get comfortable.  That doesn't mean I'm into anyone outside of the reactions I get.  A simple lunch can mean much more to the man in front of me than it will ever mean to me.  I won't do it on purpose.  I go from purely polite and slightly indifferent to lioness on the prowl, looking for a chew toy. It's not good, but it's rarely intentional.

You're such a dude.  Not everyone you conquer needs to be femme.

Gender normative isn't a dirty word in the dating world.  I'm supposed to soften my ability to be dominant in my home and with my sexuality.  I had never seen the men I date as femme, but coming from a gay man, I have to believe there is truth in the way I portray them when I go into juicy detail.

Don't you know spooning leads to forking?

Flirting is never innocent.  Don't do it unless you mean it and are willing to follow through.  Craptastic because that is my way of being.

Walk away and let him come to you. Keep giving signals that you're interested but don't pursue.

This is too twisted.  I don't get it.  I haven't played this game in decades. I was interested and all over it, or not interested and polite with an edge.  I often ended a mean streak with, "I'm just messing with you."  I never said I was nice and the men I dated were never high on emotional intelligence or otherwise.

Baby steps, Ma.

When I am into someone I can get a bit carried away.  I'm not planning a wedding and moving in and puppies together. It's more like I'm free, let's go out. Some boys need to take it slower than that.

Forget to text him on some days. Send generic messages that don't show an interest in his life or that you're expecting conversation.

Have a great weekend! Enjoy your day! Happy 4th of July!

I'm here.  Think of me so we can keep playing this game that really secretly annoys me.

Poop already, because there are other people waiting for the pot.

(I think I was trying to go for being the Shit, but ended up as a toilet. Don't flush!)

You want owners, not the help. If he ain't the highest up on the totem you're not interested. This is no longer high school.

This should matter more because I'm frequently told to think ahead, but I'm not there yet.

A woman with ink is hardcore to a guy without ink. Honey, your level of pain is more than his.  He knows you're a freak and knowing that makes him wonder if he's sexually adequate.

I've given birth.  Many times. All of my ink is meaningful design that hurt less than a crowning child and the contractions that helped me kick 7 babies out.  It was easier than the angry uterus that had no problem with beating up an infant on the way out of my womb.

Where to go: church groups, book readings, events at parks, lounges, community service, the humane society needs volunteers.  Library, museum, coffee houses, cafe's.

For fun: the grocery store produce section.

"Hey, how ripe is that peach? I bet it's juicy."

"Are these melons ripe?"

"How do you pick your papayas?"

Do we really need to go there with bananas?  I think you get it.

Distracted by a Memory

Moments flow into milestones and I look back only to distract myself with the memory of your smile. Objectified desire became your inured servant while I was held captive by you.

Your thrall was broken only by your words.

Why did you ever open that beautiful mouth of yours?

I'm Going to Find a Real Boy

Deciding to remove myself from all of the online dating sites was a good choice, but it's been hitting me in different ways as the day progresses.  At first it was this feeling of relief because I had been irritated with every alert on my phone.  I was receiving likes, winks, views and matches that were draining the battery on my phone and they were from people that saw me as a smile or a body and not as a person.  Suddenly my phone was silent.  It was around that time that my work flow slowed down and I was bored.  I didn't miss the attention.  I missed the mental stretch from flirting and running several conversations at once and staying on top of the details they shared that were really boring in themselves, but fun to keep straight. There's confidence in low stakes flirting because you really don't care. Then there were the few text messages from men that I was thinking of seeing or the ones I had seen, but didn't plan to see again.  I kept shaking my head in exasperation or vocalizing frustration because of the things they were saying.  I wondered what I might have said to give them the impression I was okay with being treated as a body.  My pictures weren't sexual or revealing.  I wondered what would make them think I was suddenly in love with them when we had never met in person and I reserved the right to be annoyed by the sound of their voice.  I tend to think anyone that starts professing romantic ideals before meeting me is laying it on thick and can't be trusted.  I started saying "this isn't a good fit and I can't see you." One response was, "if it doesn't work out with this person, let me know," as if I needed to have a replacement to release someone that made me feel like less than I am. There are some that I am going to say goodbye to by text.  We talk almost daily but I don't really care to offer my beach sunsets in exchange for an interview.

There are others that will text me to see if I remember them after a week or two of no contact.  I'm just blocking those numbers.  They have other options to feel out and I'm just part of the herd. I'm on reserve as a back up. They feel like telemarketers to me.

I set up a date for lunch on Monday and I haven't cancelled it because he hasn't made me feel bad about being a woman.  I'm also not attracted to him and I may just cancel because it would be a kindness. He lives in Pointe Dume and I couldn't see myself wanting to go visit him all that often. And yet he's coming to Burbank for me.

It dawned on me that I was setting myself up for constant frustration and allowing others to abuse my self image.  I was allowing it for the idea of company so I wouldn't have to have dinner alone when my kids are gone.  I gave up on finding Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now.  I was looking for company and even then, I was so irritated with it all, and it was the suggestion from Mr. Give Me a Second To Wipe Away the Drool that I don't need to be online to find a date that set off this chain that became cut ties to the abuse I was receiving.  It was aggression and it was abusive.  Sexualizing a conversation without consent was abuse. Even if I never fell for the game being kicked, emotional manipulation for a catfish game is cruel when your prey is genuinely lonely and only looking for a connection.

So why would I accept what I was receiving for the hope of company? That's the greater question. I'm great company and I can continue to enjoy my alone time.

I had lowered my bar to find company because I didn't think I'd find someone worth committing to.  Even with a goal of companionship, I felt happier on nights alone than with the dates I did meet.  That's really sad.  My standards weren't that high.  I wanted company I could talk to and that was it.

My actual dating profile:

You: A pretty face with as much appreciation for your own body as you expect from me. Be able to take care of yourself.

Me: I take care of myself and my boys (50/50 custody). You won't meet them unless you can offer them more than my happiness.  I'm a happy person.  I'm healthy and avoid drama.

Us: I'm looking for company to go out with.  I'm most giving and fulfilled in monogamous relationships.

As for Mr. Right, I would love to meet someone smarter than I am.  That would be incredibly sexy. And yes, I want his body harder than mine is.  I would want to be stunned into silence because his words can monumentally shift everything for me.   I would want him to make me question my confidence.  Not in the way where I wonder what my value is, but in the way where I'm more curious about where I'm placed in his value system.  He should be able to take care of himself and find ways to be happy that aren't reliant on others.

"Loving another person, even several people, will make your life fuller...But it will not make it complete. You have to do that. You must decide what you live for."

Wisdom, Amanda Hocking

I had a moment today that shocked and surprised me.  I was talking and got caught up in a moment of checking out this beautiful body in the same moment when he said something that made me think, "why have I never considered that?"  He has the kind of smile that makes you want to smile and just enjoy being dumbstruck and I had this really stiff smile on my face that was probably all shades of wrong because I was so shocked and uncertain. I haven't had that feeling in decades. The idea that he could be what I stopped looking for hit me so hard my mouth went dry and my usual smile lost it's way.  As much as it scared me, I didn't run from that feeling but I had to really sit with it to understand that the feeling in my belly was sexual arousal because my mind was stroked in so many ways.  Just wow. Then I resorted to hiding behind a keyboard because in that moment I was okay with being 12. It was a just a moment, but it was full of the feels.

So yeah, the real boy thing just means I'm no longer looking online.  I'm following that gut instinct when I get past nerves and shyness.  I'm going by what I feel and think and not looking at pictures and what car he drives or where his career takes him because that didn't matter before I was online and I don't want it to matter now.  There aren't profiles to pick through and I can just enjoy an invite into his world instead of a need to take it apart and look for cracks in the plaster or shifting foundations with outdated electrical and rusting pipes.  I can see and feel and just be.

Until I'm there, I will enjoy the ocean and quiet dinners alone and continue finding the perfect rocks to stick around my pond and set on my porch.  I will consider watching more television and maybe even catch a movie.  I hear it's a thing and I should try it because I might like it.  I'll watch night time skies and see if there are any stars shooting through it and this summer I will catch a grunion run.  I will get lost in a book while my boys are gaming and the sounds of their joy  will filter through the tension I read through.  It's not sad, I promise.

Love Attachments

I’m not immune. I crave attention and desire earth shattering love.  I want to be that first good morning text and the fading memory before sleep steals conscious thoughts.  I want my walk to be the poetry that brightens someone’s day and I want my smile to create one where it didn’t exist before.  I want to be included in outings and tomorrows and be the sure thing in a future of uncertainty because choosing me would be intentional each day as life flows into endless possibilities. I want to share in the pleasures of a physical relationship as much as the next girl, and I want to see how completely I can control someone else’s arousal.  (Kid meet candy store.) I want words.  Long love letters . . .  Epic poetry . . .  Even unexpected post it notes would make me happy.  Yes, I am that girl.  Stick out that pinky so I can curl up around it. I’m travel size.  Take me with you. The thing about this girl is I want meaningful.  I’m big on fantasy and day dream, but I never step away from reality.  I used to fall for quick professions of undying love but I can see that as a fantasy world and the history of my love life has broken that fourth wall.  You can’t suspend my disbelief.  I want a relationship that starts slowly enough by mutual consent that one of us isn’t being taken hostage by one person’s fantasies and desires.  My needs are met and my wants are held in check because I can do that.  It’s a superpower.  I’m not saying I love you should wait for “x” amount of days.  It should wait until you can genuinely say you love this person more than your favorite food or shoes.  If you would sacrifice your comfy jeans for them, then tell them you love them.  Life is too short to hold that in check.

I met a man online about 3 days ago.  His love note was full of unhealthy attachment and I’m not interested.  I’m actually a bit frightened.

“I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life like I am of us.”

I couldn’t even tell you what I wore or ate yesterday. I’m not certain about much at all.

“You make my life complete.”

I make my life complete.  I’m not looking for filler or pillow fluff.  I just want company with kissable lips.

“Today I promise you that I would do anything in my power to make you a great person, outstanding woman and loving wife.”

Spectacular.  Except, you must not see that I’m already a great person, and outstanding woman and truthfully I’m still someone else’s wife and looking for a side piece to be my main attraction.

Honestly I could see this email being the answer that many people seek.  Just not me.  Either he was copying and pasting this email to as many as he could reach in an elaborate catfishing scheme, or he really is disturbed and imagining I said some of the delusional things he wrote.  It started to feel like a catfish situation on day 1.5. He's out. 

Words Around the Watercooler

I had a watercooler conversation this morning that stayed with me most of the day.  There was a comment that was nonchalant, but shifted so much into place for me.  I don't want to misquote him but he pointed out that some people are dating online because of a very specific and necessary reason, and it's not just convenience.  I'm not into the bar scene because I don't drink. For me . . . For him . . . online dating is about convenience.

Last night I was doing a little shopping.  My girl Victoria keeps telling me her Secrets and the latest bit was about her semi-annual sale and how happy she could make me.  I happened to share this information and I probably shouldn't have because it resulted in the question about pictures.  It's never just about a picture, and it's not about seeing the inside of my nose. We had been having normal conversations so I tried to be playful and point out that Victoria's Secrets are now mine and a matter of great importance.  He asked again, stating that secrets are meant to be shared.  I told him he'd never make it to the CIA.  He then asked if my boobs were about national security and I even pointed out that if I were his, he wouldn't appreciate it if I were sharing my body like Costco samples to any man that asked. He wanted to see my flexibility in action and that was when I was done.  He later excused his behavior as having a little fun and it occurred to me that his idea of fun was to make me feel like less than a person with thoughts, ideas and feelings. I did give him something special and individual.  He's now blocked from reaching me by phone.

There was a skater/guitarist that was once featured here.  He wanted to see me tonight but made a comment that made it clear what his intentions were.  I decided seeing the ocean was more important than seeing him.

One man keeps complaining I'm always busy and hardly make time for him.  I flat out told him that I am a busy person, and probably not the one for him.  He insists he doesn't give up that easily.  I don't know how to tell him I want him to without facing another man tantrum.  Those often come with my rejections.

It's about 1 in the morning and there is a man that has been texting me for two days now.  Two whole days.  He says he wants to be part of my everyday life. I'm beautiful and he's got a deep connection.  I tell him I want to slow things down, but I should just tell him he's creeping me out when he tells me about the long term relationship he needs with me because he is falling for me.  Two days people.

I'm not cut out for online dating and maybe it's really not just me. I'm holding on to what Mr. Curious and Profoundly Observant said today.  I deleted 4 dating app accounts, and the 5th will go away when the paid subscription runs out. I'm saying my farewells to the men that make me hate the sound of an alert on my phone because they are harshing my mellow.  I will continue to say hello to cute strangers driving alongside me, and I may even lower my windows so they can hear me.  I'll find the bravery that is pretty deeply hidden and be authentic with what I want.  I went to Santa Monica tonight but avoided the end of the pier with the photographer because I am a chicken.  Eventually I'll be honest and upfront when I tell him he's not the one for me and I won't lie and say I'm not dating.  I am.  Just not him.  And not anyone else that finds me online and wants to know my bra size without spending a moment in my head.

I really do direct men to my blog and they very rarely read it and if they do, they don't stick around.  It's about increasing my readership, but more than that, I bleed freely here.  Lap up the thoughts that spill out and frame the dreams that make me who I am.  Let feminism wrap around you until you feel empathy for what the women in your life feel on any given day. Know that I'm not always nice, and I'm sexual and honesty will come out whether or not you're ready for it.  I won't hide behind or from what I write because it's who I am and I'm not ashamed.

All night my phone has been alerting me that I'm on someone else's mind, but my mind is running laps around a water cooler and the many potty breaks that I seem to end up on as I spend way too much time making myself cups of tea.

Lowlights from the Trenches of Bad Dates

Warning: I'm not always nice, and I'm in a mean mood.

Life as I know it has taken a serious turn into the unfriendly world of single motherhood, and family health issues.  I think it's time for frivolity and what better place to start than to share some of my bad dates.  These are all people I actually met in person on dates.  Not all of them will end up here because some bad dates belong to men with redeeming qualities.  Just not enough for subsequent outings with me. I can use the laugh. Laugh with me.

Mr. Smart, Active, and a bit too Creeptackular

The first date I had was a spontaneous event.  We chatted a bit here and there between his basketball games and we talked about his career which interested me enough to keep the conversation going. He was aware that Wednesday is my first kid free day and I was on my way to Ikea when he reached out for a date that night. I'm not a drinker, but I have no problem with a good meal.

We planned to meet at a bar and grill in Highland Park, between us. Unfortunately, I was having a stressful day that included forgetting to feed myself.  By 6 that evening, I was starving and weak, and while I planned on half a gluten free wrap at Togo's, I devoured the whole shebang, chips and drink in less time than it took to get there once I realized I needed food.  I was in the earlier stages of online dating, where texting 7 men at once was still fun, so arriving early because I'm punctual didn't matter.  I was sitting in my car and lost track of time.  I was almost 5 minutes late.

I walked around the front of the bar and stopped for a minute to flirt with the bouncer.  Old habits die hard.  I had him guess my age because that never fails and always delivers.  He guessed 8 years younger.  My date noticed what I was doing at the door while seated at a table in the back of the bar, and was jealous enough to mention it.

I noticed he had two glasses of water on the table with the gin and tonic he was nursing.  My first thought was I couldn't trust the drink because I didn't know what all was in it.  And I was still full. I sat with him and didn't put one thing in my mouth the whole time.  I was a really cheap date. We chatted and the conversation flowed easily enough.  In hindsight, his boozy goggles probably made it so he needed to focus on my face, but his staring into my eyes, when I was looking everywhere but at him kinda creeped me out.

By 9 I made a lame excuse to head home, and he offered to walk me to my car.  He had been creeping me out for the last hour and a half and I kinda thought I'd be safer walking on my own, but accepted his escort.  When we got to my car he leaned in for a goodnight kiss.  I flinched.  I flinched the second time too, but gave a chaste kiss because I was sure he'd make a third attempt.  He asked about a second date, and I said yes, but we both knew he wouldn't get one.  As I was leaving, my headlights flashed at a woman sitting in her car across from us, laughing hysterically at what she saw.  It is kinda funny.

Mr. Sounds Sexy But Shouldn't Be Talking

I should state here that I'm not a nice person.  This man had such a thick accent that I couldn't understand half of what he said, and maybe that's what he had going for him. I really loved our first date.  The second date showed me more of the anger he had boiling under the surface.  He sees too much of Europe's financial demise coloring our economy in ways that make him predict a financial future that he's trying to leave in his past. He had the sounds and moves of the Italian transplant he is, and just wow.  In a good way.  He's the only one that got a second and third date.  I happened to have his first and third date on the same day as first dates with two other men.  Yes, seeing two men on one day has happened.  I should feel shame about how easily I navigated that, but I don't.  He was a special snowflake, just not special enough for me to want exclusivity.  In the end, an evening with an Adele soundtrack seemed to break him and his sweet emotional side was too soft for me to look at without wanting to laugh at him.   I won't go so far as to call him a little bitch, but I would have in my 20's. I did mention that I'm not nice, right?

Mr. Amazing on Paper, but Hornball by Text

I was flattered at first.  This was a man that was willing to meet me on my lunch break in Burbank from where he was working in Northridge.  We talked about being single parents.  He has owned a few businesses, and we discussed his latest ventures.  He seemed like someone worthy of my time.  The goodbye kiss was great.  He wore my lipstick nicely and didn't mind walking to his car with it smeared all over his mouth.  I loved getting to work and realizing my lipstick was also all over my chin.  Every text after that was about how badly he wanted to screw me on every surface he could find. He justified being rapey because I enjoyed kissing him too much.  Is that a thing?  I'm a grown woman that isn't inexperienced, but he made  desire feel dirty. He was the first person I had to block.

Mr. Old Enough to be My Teenage Dad

I'm not a fan of online dating.  At all.  When I meet a person in person that is willing to take a chance to ask me out, I'm usually game.  I'm big on spontaneity.  He had all of this going for him, so I didn't ask the obvious question that answers itself online: Are you between 38 and 45?  I lean toward 42 as a maximum unless he's beautiful and built.  He was nervous and brave in spite of being afraid of my rejection and I said yes even though I really wasn't interested.

He has a favorite beach and suggested an 80 minute drive through traffic right after I got off of work. I suggested we cut that time in half with my escape hatch at Santa Monica.  He made a few wrong turns and admitted he was nervous although he claimed to know the area, and later admitted to talking about me with a friend.  We were supposed to meet for coffee.  I never once offered to name a puppy together.

I like to ask men what they love about their work.  If there's something they love, they might be in a better mood when I see them than if they hate everything about their job.  At the end of the day, he's not a happy man. He saw a man texting at a light and went on an angry rant, but I didn't point out that it's a bad habit of mine to check alerts when stopped at a light. He made a few different hateful observations that described me pretty closely. He didn't know me well enough to know this.

On our way, I got car sick.  I tend to get boat sick. I used to get sick on the school bus as a kid.  I get carsick on mountain roads and stick shift cars with new drivers.  I don't remember the last time I actually got car sick but it was on the way to Big Bear when my boys were little and I was still getting pregnant for other people.  Before he hit the 405 I wanted to puke.

We ended up playing mini golf which was a win once my stomach settled and he stopped hovering over me like a mom.  On the way back to my car, he chose the streets and prolonged the drive that originally made me sick. I got sick again and passed up on his dinner offer.  I got home and made myself a steak and potato dinner.  Someone should explain to him that it's not a good idea to bring up your ex on a first date, or your date's ex, repeatedly.

For the record: My ex was my soul mate.  He was the bouncer at the pool hall that was my second home.  He would flirt and joke about patting me down for weapons when I barely had room for myself in my mini dresses.  One day I was at the bar and asked the bartender for a Coke, and said he would pay for it.  He said it would cost my number.  A week later I was on a date with someone else and asked why he didn't call me.  We had our first date in April, married that September and lasted for nearly 15 years before he quit.  It's been 16 years since our first date, and we're still legally married.  You can't recreate what was had because it was a combustible flame that consumed us both then was snuffed out in a vacuum.  You can't compete with that.  You have to accept that it was special and it's over and I'm waiting for my life partner.  He set a bar that I've raised to my eye level and I'm especially picky about who I give my time to.  If I've granted you an audience, don't waste it on my past.

Mr. Entrepreneur

This past weekend was planned as a self care weekend.  I needed to take myself out because I know how to treat this lady.  I had a beautiful sunset at the beach followed by a delicious meal by myself.  It was a beautiful night.  I blogged about it.  Cotton Candy Skies Make it Better. The next evening I met a girlfriend at the Grove and we shared laughter over non alcoholic drinks and I had chicken in a white wine reduction with capers, lemon juice and brussels sprouts which gave me a hangover the next morning anyway.  I'm so not a lush. We even joked about having kiddie drinks. As I was leaving, I got a Bumble alert from an OC man that was 2 miles away for work.  I said I was heading home, but probably stopping for coffee first.  His reply was about coffee keeping me up and I mentioned it was also an excuse to meet him if he was game.  I was open to tea. We met at Starbucks, but he suggested tea at the Thai restaurant that was closing.  He said they'd sell tea, but clearly hadn't investigated in the time he was waiting for me at the Starbucks he suggested.  They weren't a tea bar, but I ordered a young coconut.  He watched me pay for mine, then ordered and paid for his.  I don't mind.  It's only $4.

It made me think about a date that bought me breakfast when I took him up on his offer after a couple of messages.  It was a last moment thing and I loved the spontaneity. He said something along the lines of taking the opportunity to prove you aren't a douche on the first date by paying.  This was a terrific date,  but we want different things.

Mr. Entrepreneur and I chatted and had a difference of opinions on many things other than finding each other attractive at first glance and at the end of it we parted ways without so much as a hug and I unmatched him before driving off.  I'm not against going Dutch.  I think the part that bothered me was the way it was done.  I had just had a meal with a girlfriend with separate checks and he made it feel so impersonal in comparison.I think it was about the way it felt like he had a constant sneer about everything I said and felt.  The bonus was driving past LA Ink on La Brea and finally seeing it.

FYI: If you are living someone else's dream, you are not actually an entrepreneur.  If you say you are an entrepreneur and you are an Uber driver, you are no longer stretching the truth, you are abusing language and I'm afraid for words everywhere.  Just no.

My membership on Matched will end in less than a month, and that's when my online dating adventure will end on all sites.  I only extended it the second month because of that really great breakfast date and his encouragement. I'd say it's been fun, but it's really just been an adventure.

Clover: Good for an ego boost.  I have 363 likes from men mainly in their 20's.  The oldest has been 4 years younger than me.  The young ones.

Bumble: Swiping madness can cure boredom.  They will put the pretty ones first. It's an eye candy explosion and I may or may not have had to wipe drool off my lips once or twice. The beautiful ones.

Match: A few good men, but not worth the fee.  I was often matched with people who haven't used the site in over 3 weeks, probably because that's when their membership ended and they couldn't email anyone anymore. The successful bunch that loves travel and has high expectations.

Twoo: The questions and badges were fun. Making me swipe right before I was able to see those that liked me for a free membership when I wasn't interested back made me lose interest.  I don't even want the Premium. Not a pretty bunch, but they were all really nice.

OK Cupid: By far my favorite.  I liked the questions. You answer. The other person answers. I cancelled a date based on how differently we saw the world. He had a tantrum. Messaging is free and you can see your 5 last visitors.  A free boost was in answering questions or updating your profile because you end up in an activity stream and I've often been messaged right after an edit.  You can't see your likes for free but if you've gotten an alert and check your last 5 right away, you can take an educated guess.  It's a mixed bag of candy that you have to carefully choose from.  Some bits are toffees, some are taffies.  If you are lucky you won't bite into a jawbreaker thinking it's a pillow mint.

Cotton Candy Skies Make it Better

I've had a rough dating week this week.  There were enough bad "man experiences" that I'm looking forward to my weekend alone.  I decided yesterday I would date myself.  Today I will paint my bedroom and visit a friend that is female and has no interest in my body whatsoever, and tomorrow will include church and probably nature somewhere.

It was a 40 minute drive from Burbank to Santa Monica Beach and I enjoyed it.  I got to the pier and was surrounded by sounds of happy screaming on rides, performers making music and creating laughter, conversations about everything and nothing and dreams and desires. I saw families and couples and babies.  There were anglers catching mackerel and I saw what was too wriggly to be a mackerel with sharp teeth that was called a lizard fish by the cute blonde that released him back into the ocean.

I saw that friendly photographer again.  It was the usual hug of a greeting and I left to look for the seal he said I wouldn't find.  He was right.  He suggested it's a seasonal thing and the seals are working on fattening up for the summer.

He took several pictures of me in front of the breathtaking sunset I enjoyed last night and then wanted to show me something.  I walked with him to a quieter area of the pier where fishing isn't allowed and saw more breathtaking views.  The ocean was so calm.  He then lead me to another quiet area above Maria Sol where there was another couple walking through and I was able to get a more bird's eye view of the many people I normally weave through.  At this point he took my hand in a firm grip, reminding me why I wear fewer rings on dates because, ouch, and wanted to show me the lit up ferris wheel. There were other people around, and that's where I made up a story about meeting a friend at the 3rd street Promenade.  I had to rush.  Sort of.  He offered to take me to Marina del Rey to see the seals.  I said, "Sure. Maybe," and headed off without giving another word.  Really, I have a great car and Waze and I can get there myself.

I keep trying to think of how this should look differently than it does.  It was really a kindness and a blessing on that first night when my mood was bottoming out to see him and have him offer a free picture that still sits on my fridge.  It's his job to take pictures for a price.  A freebie when I was seeking out the ocean to dwarf the drama in my life seemed like a gift I really needed.  I thought I would return that kindness with kindness.  He was always friendly and I assumed that was his character because often it is mine.  I don't know how I feel about going back there anytime soon, or if I would want to go alone, because it was my alone happy place. I should tell him I'm not interested in seeing him anywhere but on the pier and I really don't want to hold his hand, but it would be easier to catch those sunsets from Will Rogers State Beach where it's less crowded and then head to a more crowded area where there's a strong police presence, because yes, I am a chicken that sometimes has a hard time rejecting people because I know how much it hurts to be rejected.

That may be why I will continue conversations I'm not really interested in.  I hope they'll change my mind, but they rarely do.  A date I had this week repeatedly brought up my ex. It's bad when you bring up your own ex, I know this and avoided it. He wanted to know how we met and when I knew he was the one and how he could recreate it.  You can't recreate that.  I wouldn't want to.  We met at a pool hall.  After weeks of flirting, I saw him sitting at the bar and told the bartender I was having a Coke, and he would pay for it.  He told me it would cost my number and I scribbled it on a matchbook.  A week later I was in the pool hall on a bad date and asked him why he never called.  He did call.  We had our first date, and I went home to my roommate and told him I would marry him.  He went home to his mom and said the same thing.  It was beautiful and amazing.  He was my soul mate but I'm waiting for my life partner now.  You can't recreate that magic because there's enough stardust left in me for something whole and new with the right man. 

My plan was for a boiled crab dinner on the pier but I ended up at Hummus House on the Promenade where  I sat alone and enjoyed my meal.  Another man sat next to me, also alone at his table and he sipped wine with his meal as he enjoyed the basketball game on the big screen in front of us, and it was comfortable.  I love comfortable and companionable but I enjoyed our silence. I walked alone and stopped to greet blue eyed babies and creep out their parents a bit.  It was awesome.  I drove home along Sunset Blvd. for the most part singing too loudly, and ignoring the flashing lights and sirens whipping through Beverly Hills in the opposite direction because I was content to sit in selfishness and not wonder about who's life was shifting into despair and chaos behind me.

At the end of the day, my day got better because cotton candy skies will do that.  Although next time, I resolve to include cotton candy wisps that melt on sticky fingers in clouds of joy and diabetes.